Wings to Fly
by StackofStories
Summary: And then, Jason felt a sudden gust of wind as two large wings flared from Nico's back. They dwarfed the small boy. Jason thought he was the first to speak although it was more of a guffaw than actual words. Wings! The boy had wings unlike ones he'd ever seen before. Black as night and spotted with white circular moons. Jasico! Hybrid!AU
1. Jason

**So, new Jasico fic! I hope you guys like... it's on ao3 and on my tumblr too. So yeah. As usual this is unbeta'd... sorry for any mistakes. **

* * *

><p><strong>Wings To Fly<strong>**  
><strong>**Chapter One**

* * *

><p>The floors gleamed. The windows sparkled. The hybrids panted. Smiles were stretched. A five-course dinner laid out. Father was back.<p>

Thalia once said when Father came back from his frequent business trips everyone in the house scurried to play house. Hera was the loving stepmother, she laughed airily with every pause of Father. She boasted her cooking skills while pointing a long-manicured nail at Father's favorite foods. She praised the children and wheedled information out of her absent husband, lamenting how much she missed him.

Hercules, the first born, was next in play house. He shared illicit jokes with Father. He chuckled in tandem with him and always made sure to mention his progress in both university and in the relationship area. Hercules also made sure to leave up room enough for Father to interject and to add in his own advice.

Thalia was supposed to be the apple of Father's eye and once upon she was. She was the only girl-child. When Father came back she used to dote on him, first to greet him at the door and first to engage him in conversation. She shared Father's ideals and sought his approval but somewhere along the way Thalia quit being Father's Princess and her role in playing house diminished. She stopped coming home.

In the scheme of things when Father came back, he, Jason, the baby of the family had to try the hardest. As soon as Father sat in his big chair at the head of table, cooing with Hera and laughing with Hercules, Father's attentions set on him.

Thalia and Hercules already achieved everything in academics and athletics. Hercules was the star on all the major sport teams during his school years. Thalia was that and more; she achieved straight A's from grades 3-12 and was president of a number of clubs. Where was his place to succeed?

At the beginning of every school year when votes were cast, he could successfully say, "I'm president of my class."

Hercules jabbed in. "How cute Jay-Jay, so was I," and Father's cold blue eyes narrowed already displeased.

So, it was up to him, to establish how he differed, why he deserved Father's attention like Thalia and Hercules. "I instituted a new policy on late work," or "I lowered lunch prices," and "I swayed the school for a bigger budget in extracurricular activities," he offered.

Thalia would quietly mutter that she did one of those things as well and Hercules just smirked, patting Father on the shoulder. "He was last born," he'd say loftily. "He can only do what we already did."

Father's expression never changed. He'd grumble, "Nonsense."

He was desperate to gain some approval. Thalia was there no more and he knew Father grew bored with his successive years in presidency. He switched gears. "I think Hera saved the newspaper clipping, Father. While you were gone, I saved the local church from destruction through a community fundraiser. It was on the news and everything, the money raised was high enough to replace all the Church's windowed mosaics with new ones."

Father's grumbling stopped momentarily. Hercules' smirk drooped. Perhaps, this was his time to gain a smile or a sliver of appreciation. He rolled on. "Father, if you remember the girl I took last year to the dance, Belle Guthrie, she's now my girlfriend. She's cheer captain and her father, Abel Guthrie he's…"

"Governor, I'm aware," Father said.

He tried hard not to perk. The Guthrie's were strict conservatives and an old prominent family in the country's history. Abel Guthrie supported Father in most of his political views. Even if he didn't particularly like Belle, it was a match made in heaven. He found it on his own, not even Hercules could attest to that.

"She's very happy to tell anyone that listens of my skill on the field," he laughed sheepishly.

"Your skill on the field?"

He nodded. This time he allowed pride to cover his words and his lips to do more than quirk. "I've been leading the team to the Championships in both football and lacrosse. We haven't lost a game yet. Coach says he hasn't seen this much skill since Hercules, and I might have more talent than Herc did at his peak."

"Really?" Father's lost some of his cool exterior. His grin widened when Father shot a questioning glance to Hercules.

"Coach says scholarships are already pouring in and with my honor roll grades, Coach thinks I can go anywhere in the country."

"Of course he does, you're my son," Father said with conviction.

"You're son?" he echoed.

"Yes, you have my blood and personality. You are expected to achieve success in whatever you do," Father insisted.

He wasn't in the habit of being ooey-gooey but it was as if dark clouds parted light shined down on him covering him in holy warmth. If he strained he'd hear the voices of a thousand angels. Finally. Father saw him, not some third-rate child.

"He hasn't even followed your ideals on hybrids," Hercules angrily butted in. The tips of his ears colored red.

The angels stopped singing. The clouds sewed together. He was forced to bore Father's expression or rather lack of one. It wasn't like he needed it to tell Father's mood, Hercules was the perfect reflection. His lips curled back into a sneer, his eyes blazing with righteous anger. All he needed was Hera's titter of, "Why bother?"

"Explain," Father said stonily.

Hercules was all too happy to comply. "He lends his support to his hybrid-loving friends publicly. He speaks during the school's debates on the side of the hybrids, and the church he so graciously helped rebuild— in the newspaper that interviewed him there was a quote from him, saying, that he hoped one day hybrids would be treated as equals, as _humans_."

He fought to keep down retorts. It wouldn't help his cause if he started to fight and accuse the favorite of lying.

"There are whispers, Father, that Jason dreams to follow you into the political field only so he could change Hybrid Law," Hercules gossiped. He shot a minute malicious smile at him. "If you don't believe me, Father, look at how he treats his hybrid Hazel."

He froze. There was no reason to bring Hazel into this; Father ignored Hazel since day one. It wouldn't due for Father to start prying now.

"Father, I—" he started only to be interrupted.

"Be quiet, Jason. Is what Hercules said true?"

He struggled not squirm in his seat or shift his eyes to the carpet. "It is true, Father, but you have to understand I was only—"

"My own flesh and blood betrays me. He seeks to undermine everything I've worked for," Father said, voice soft as silk.

His heart jackhammered. Father was dangerous like this. "Father, it isn't like that. I've been trying to gai—"

"I've allowed him too much freedom when it comes to hybrids. He treats his whore," he actually flinched, if he had any courage he'd tell Father to never call Hazel a whore. "–as if she was human. He lets hybrids do whatever they please, talking and acting as if they were our equals or better than us!"

If he possessed Annabeth's argumentative streak and brains he'd challenge Father. Hybrids bled red like humans. They talked like humans and held the same human emotions, they were human. The only differing factor was the animal side and could someone not compare that to being born with varying skin and eye colors, with extra finger, or a chromosome or two. Was he not taught in elementary school that our differences was what made us human?

"… to be like Thalia. I should show him how hybrids are supposed to be treated and trained, Hercules raised Hebe into a respectable hybrid."

Hercules and Father shared a lecherous smile.

"Perhaps, I should give Jason's whore to Hercules. To let her be an exa—"

"No!" he surprised himself. His eyes widened at his outburst. He actually cut Father in the middle of his tirade. He'd never done that; even when Father called Thalia and his mother every name in the book.

"No?" his family said unison.

He swallowed audibly. "Forgive me, Father. I meant if you could give me another chance to show you that I fully believe in your cause? If you were to give Hazel over to Hercules I fear that his methods wouldn't work and what lesson would that teach me?"

"Father, Jason is just trying to save—"

"Let your brother speak." Father motioned for him to continue. He wished he had the time to appreciate Hercules' slackened jaw and how he reeled back, his electric blue eyes constantly shifting between him and Father.

"You couldn't teach an old dog new tricks is the saying. How about a new one? Perhaps, you could allow me a bit of time to train a new hybrid up to your standards?" he prompted.

"And if you fail?" Hercules spat. "What lesson have you learned then?" His older brother sniffed, turning his attention back to Father. "Give me Hazel and let me teach my foolish little brother a lesson in proper politics and the rightful way to go about certain things."

"If I fail I'll stop talking to my friends. I'll give Hazel to Hercules. I'll listen to whatever you say, I'll even talk Thalia into coming back," he was desperate at this point promising useless frivolities; if Father asked him to do any of those he'd do it, with or without the deal on the table. "Just please give me a chance to correct my mistakes."

"I leave for my next trip into two days and won't be back for three months. You have three months to purchase a hybrid from The Auction and train it to be as obedient and submissive as Ganymede." Father motioned to the beautiful golden retriever hybrid on his lap, who fed Father between pauses.

He reined in his twitch. Ganymede naked as the day he was born moved without an ounce of modesty. He was his father's doormat and favorite hybrid. Ganymede was loyal to the fault-line when it came to Father. There was no way he could train a hybrid to act like that but what choice did he have?

He blew through his nose and mustered a smile. "Thank you, Father. You won't be disappointed."

Hercules and Hera mirrored each other in snorts. Father harrumphed. "We shall see."

Hercules glared, Father continued to be fed. He felt suffocated. He wanted to excuse himself from the table. To do so would indicate weakness and he wouldn't give them an inch. So he sat and ate, quiet as ever as Hercules went back to laughing. Hera cooing. All of them playing house.

…

He stepped into a miasma of cheap perfume and rancid sex. The government glorified The Auction as being more high-class than the Kennel when in reality the so-called poor-people's store was more clean and refined. He readily preferred it to The Auction.

The Auction was setup in what looked like a high-school school auditorium. There was a huge stage up in front, floored with shiny wood and lined in the back with a gaudy red curtain. The overhead stage lights were bright. A single microphone stand stood in the middle of the stage. What surrounded the stage were four rows of theater seats evenly spaced and all cosied up to the front where they, the customers, could see everything.

He scooted around the decrepit rich, holding Kratos' leash tight in his right hand. Kratos was attuned to his general disdain and he led him to the deserted seats in the back. He sagged into the red seat on the end of the aisle finding comfort in the fact that at least the seats were comfortable.

Kratos took his place on the floor. The dirty floor littered with unidentifiable fluids and substances. Jason turned his nose, Kratos' chocolate brown tail curled around his waist as he got situated.

By now he knew it was a lost cause to try and get Kratos to sit in an actual seat. Alike Ganymede Kratos was a Hybrid that was loyal to Father and followed Hybrid Law as if it were spoken word.

He sighed.

Kratos deserved proper treatment, to sit next to him like a regular person. It never failed to make Jason queasy to his stomach when he noticed how hybrids were conditioned to just accept their place below humans. No fight. No protest. He vowed to change that as soon as he got his bearings.

The lights dimmed abruptly, a band of three or four lights converged together in the middle of the curtain. One only had to wait seconds for the man to appear. He strutted to center stage, an inviting white smile pasted on. Jason propped his hand under his chin, leaning on the armrest for support. His blue eyes followed the lean man. He was dressed like a ringmaster of a circus in colors of black and blue with a thick black whip hung on his waist. The mike from the microphone stand in one hand.

"Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, people of ages… I hope you've come to be dazzled tonight and to take home a hybrid that will be sure to turn the neighbors green with jealously!" he roared out dramatically.

"We are! We are!" the crowd before Jason yelled.

"Fantastic!" The man bobbed his head. "It would be a crime to make you good people wait any longer. Let me introduce you to the Timeless Thetis!"

A statuesque woman was pushed out from the curtain. Her hair was long and as black as the tar on the road. She was remarkably pale, dressed in nothing but ocean-blue short-shorts. The person Jason dubbed as the Ringmaster chattered on as he beckoned the hybrid forth.

"She's a narwhal mix as you can tell," he pointed the ivory horn protruding from where her nose should've been. "Don't let that stop you from picking her, folks. Thetis is amazing grab."

The Ringmaster twisted to stand behind her. He used one hand to grope at her bouncing breasts and then crawled down to her sex. Thetis never so much as blinked. "She's a virgin, she takes care of children — she's young at only 20, and when you get to know her she's just the sweetest darling in the world," he trilled.

"I'll start the bidding at $2,000."

Jason kept his neon-colored fan to his lap. He watched those around him jump up and haggle for prices. The bidding competition lasted for around five minutes consisting of loud shouting before the room got quiet. An elderly man by the name of Peleus stated that he'd pay $10,000 cash.

There was no question.

"Sold!" the Ringmaster boomed.

It went like that for an hour or so. Jason had a tough time in hiding his disgust for the whole business. The Ringmaster outright molested all those that he called out, whether boy or girl, no matter the age and these people — these inhumane _pigs_ sat there and urged him further.

They told the Ringmaster to open their legs wider, they couldn't see, or, shove his fingers in deeper — provide more examples. They laughed raucously at the little hybrids that tried to squirm away; they made sport out of those that looked emotionless but broke minutes later, and when these poor hybrids were sold they were immediately led off stage and to the laps of their new masters, and these new masters never bothered to wait until the Auction was over.

Jason shivered at all the cries that bundled around him.

He felt bad. He wondered if he was the worst out of the bunch because he sat there and looked on. His mouth closed. His eyes coolly averted, the emotions of hatred and loathing for his common men welling inside him sure, but did he dare to do anything?

His thoughts broke when the Ringmaster announced the final hybrid sold for the night. Jason was braced for another night of disappointment. Since Father left two nights ago, he'd been coming to the Auction. He had yet to find the perfect hybrid, he knew he shouldn't be picky, but if he was going to do what he promised Father the person would have to… resilient.

"… Nico," introduced the Ringmaster. No gaveling shouts. No added adjectives before his name just a bland mention. The curtains opened for this hybrid. Jason's boredom twisted into awe as he leaned forward at Nico's appearance.

He was unlike any hybrid he'd seen in Auction pasts. Hybrids moved freely without bonds. This one was heavily chained down. His wrists and ankles bound together. A black cloth stretched half his face. His dark eyes burned the crowd with a glare so fearsome it'd make the devil to running for the hills.

He found it odd that Nico was clothed unlike the other hybrids. The hybrids before Nico wore as little as possible leaving none to the imagination. Nico was dressed like a weird mashup of erotic sex-doll and Lolita cosplay.

They placed Nico in a short black dress with bows and ribbons, thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. Jason saw slivers of Nico's milky skin showing at the shoulders and legs and the tell-tell red of a fake blush… makeup?

All in all Nico made an alluring sight. But he didn't look as if he belonged in the Auction, more like a brothel. Jason was curious as to what made this boy a hybrid, he'd seen nothing yet…

The Ringmaster inched closer to Nico bending down to whisper in his ear before he gave the crowd another blinding-white smile. He produced a small remote control and then scurried back away from Nico, clicking as he went. Jason held his breath like the other potential buyers. He heard two small chimes and then a heavy thunk echo in the quiet auditorium.

And then, a sudden gust of wind as two large wings flared from Nico's back. They dwarfed the small boy standing erect behind him.

Jason thought he was the first to speak although it was more of a guffaw than actual words.

Wings!

The boy had wings unlike ones he'd ever seen before. Black as night and spotted with white circular moons. Jason squinted, he struggled to find a species to appropriate with those wings. He was certain they weren't avian, so, what were they? Did the hybrid-makers develop a new species, was this a new product to behold?

"Nico here is an insect hybrid," the Ringmaster said.

Kratos seemed to be aware of his actions before Jason was himself. He hissed a "Don't!" but Jason already picked up his fan and waved it before the bidding began. He wanted that hybrid. No one could have him.

"I'll take him," said Jason clearly. "How much?"

The Ringmaster stopped double-taking. He spoke without filter. "You actually _**want**_ this thing! Dear boy, he's a failed experiment — a moth. You'll be the laug—"

Jason channeled his inner Father, cold and dismissive. "I don't believe I asked for your opinion; how much for him?"

The Ringmaster reddened. "Five hundred."

Jason nodded. "Sold."


	2. Nico

**Okay guppies. New chapter. Dreadfully short, but hey, _NEW CHAPTER_. My computer is acting so fucking stupid right now. I went through and did a really rough edit meaning there will probably be tons of mistakes, warning you now. Proceed with caution. I'm extremely sorry but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting. **

* * *

><p><strong>Wings to Fly<strong>

**Chapter Two: Nico**

* * *

><p><em>A shiny metal wash basin is forcefully pushed into their room. Water droplets scatter. "Wash," is the brisk command. Then, the slam of the door. The clicking of the locks sliding back into place.<em>

_The bathtub is filled with murky water that reflect the dim light bulbs overheard. An orange sponge bobs at the top. It's flaked with ruby blood and pinkish membrane. He wasn't the first for cleaning today. He's sure he won't be the last. Nico watches it, numb, as Bianca sends him a small lipped smile._

_Her wings flutter behind her. They're beautiful, his sister's wings, large and wide, black as night and starred with a thousand light blue circles. They're like a glittering night sky. She loves them. He loves them. Everyone loves them._

_Bianca dips her fingers into the water, grabbing the sponge. "It's still warm," she lies. Her fingers squeeze the material and rosy water drips out. One, two, ripple. One, two, ripple. It's a rhythm._

_She pushes a dark piece of hair out of her face. She approaches him like a wild animal. She doesn't need to do that. He's not afraid of the sponge or her. He's barely alert. He's merely there. Breathing and blinking. Ignoring the movement on his back._

_"I'm going to wash you now, I'll be careful, I promise," she says, so quiet he barely hears her._

_He doesn't give her any indication that he's heard. His gaze lifts from the bathtub in front of him. He sees a hazy outline of her back. She raises the sponge, whispering sweet words of would-be comfort._

_"Bianca," he rasps just as her hand hovers above him. Drops of water fall from the sponge, sliding down his back in trails of fire._

_"Yes Nico," she edges closer._

_He closes his eyes, breathing in and breathing out. He feels them. They move with every breath he takes, with every shift in body. He peeks open one eye, offering her a smile, so wide and stretched it hurts his face._

_"Can you wash away my wings?"_

* * *

><p>In a dress that barely skimmed his upper thighs, he felt like a whore. In makeup, he felt like a poor clown's imitator. In heavy chains, he felt like a prisoner.<p>

They placed him in a front a large body mirror. Their phantom hands flitted quickly over his body, trying to perfect the un-perfectable. His lightless eyes bore into him, filled with contempt. Those are the only features they can never change.

They, he never bothered to learn their names nor do they tell him, shoved him from the his reflecting image and to the backstage. He fell into line after tens of other hybrids. Some of them shaking, some of them crying, all of them scared.

He was different from the hybrids, both mentally and physically. A fact he never failed to note whenever he was placed in the actual Auction. He noticed minor details like the others wore little to no clothing; they always moved freely without chains, guided through the curtains with a gentle hand. Their eyes were always turned toward the floor, the shoulders and stances, hunched to make themselves smaller.

He was easily one of the smallest of the bunch, the one with the weakest physique, yet he was one encased in chains. He was the one that wore a tight muzzle stretched to fit half his face. He was also the only one that looked the handlers in the eye and held his head up as they did, proud and spiteful that he'd never be like the norm. He would bend to no one.

One by one, his fellow hybrids were sold. Until they were only two, him and the lemur.

"– Introducing the Prodigious Phidias!" the announcer, Louis bellowed. The curtains were opened, he caught a glimpse of the dazzling lights before Phidias was pushed out, his stripped black and white tail wrapped loosely around his waist.

The red curtains drew closed, he was left in the dark. The last one standing as usual. As close as he was, he heard everything. He listened, rage climbing with every collectivized roar of approval the crowd let out when Louis followed to their requests to terrorize Phidias.

He wondered what these people, this monsters, heard when Phidias let out a loud whimper of pain? What they saw when Phidias or any hybrids' face was screwed up in obvious pain or discomfort. Was it just the Auction that made man a savage sadistic beast or was it the outside too?

"We've got $5500 going once, twice, and **sold** to the lovely lady in the back!"

Polite cheering. More whimpering from Phidias.

"Unfortunately folks, we have come to the end of the line tonight. If you didn't find what you'll looking for today, come back next week. We're sure to have a new and exciting selection for you!" A pause. "Nico."

Not even an adjective was attached to his name. He was hurt. A handler grabbed his arm and dragged him forward, rather unneeded. He could walk forward just fine. The curtains parted and it was his time to shine.

One foot in front of the other, he told himself, when he came out onto stage. Disgusting. Sex was all he smelled. Lecherous men and women with their hybrids already poised in laps or hands touching everywhere and not one of them stopped their actions though their eyes were on him.

His chains clattered with each step walked across the wooden panels until he was right beside Louis whom was dressed in blues and blacks. A top hat and a whip were Louis' accessories, like a stereotypical ringmaster. He stood in place. They stared at him. He stared back.

"Be good or you'll be in the cage for two weeks," Louis hissed in his ear. His lips twitched, that was supposed to keep him in line? How many times were they going to threaten him with the cage?

Nevertheless, he held back a snort, showing no outward reaction. Louis skittered back with a black remote in hand. He tensed, waiting for the sound of the tinkling chimes, the soft click, and then — the heaviest of his bonds were dropped and his wings, his monstrous wings were released.

In that moment, he forgot his apathetic facade and the torrent of anger within him. He felt sweet relief when his wings extended from him to flare up in their full glory. They twitched behind him happy for their temporary freedom.

His gaze slid from the confused crowd to Louis. He waited for the dear announcer to provide all the necessary information about him.

"Nico here is an insect hybrid," said Louis.

He waited for the customary insults after that. His experience at The Auction told him that people desired exotic species but there was a limit to how far people went. People did not want to buy pests. The group before him still silent was a testament to that fact.

A luminescent yellow caught his eye. He watched a blond boy, not much older than himself, wave the yellow fan around jerkily.

"I'll take him," the blond said. "How much?"

What? He felt the ridiculous urge to point at himself. He squashed it almost immediately. Ridiculous. Surely, he must have heard wrong. No one ever wanted him. This blond meant some other hybrid, a different breed, perhaps he had missed the insect part. Louis, for his part, did a double-take for him.

"You actually want this thing!" Louis cackled. Ha. Ha. Ha. "Dear boy, he's a failed experiment — a moth. You'll be the laug—"

"I don't believe I asked for your opinion; how much for him?" the blond interrupted.

Louis flushed. "Five hundred."

An improvement of last week's price of $250. At the bid, no matter how low, he thought the blond would chicken out but he leveled a stare at him. "Sold," he said coolly.

"He's your problem now, boy," Louis mumbled.

And like that. He was someone else's. Surprise set in, after half a decade someone finally taken him, wanted him, and then came the spitting anger. He barely noticed how Louis produced a brass key and moved around him, unlocking all his locks and undoing his muzzle; he was just that consumed.

How dare that blond kid buy him like the rest? How dare he presume that he was the perfect hybrid to play with like a pet. Well, he would be in for a rude awakening. The Auction barely tolerated him for weeks before they sent him to the cage. He wondered how long the boy would last (days, if he was lucky) before he was sent back here.

Another handler, big guy, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him off the stage (he was growing tired of all this dragging) to his new… person. Sudden whispers and points surrounded as the man jerked him down the steps and between the aisles. Whereupon arriving, he was pushed to the blond's feet.

He scrambled up, ready for a fight, only he was met with an outstretched hand. He stared at it for seconds — gawked was the more accurate description. Again surprise coated him until he realized what he was doing. He knocked the hand away with a snort. He could get up on his own, thank you very much. And he did.

He brushed off his dress and promptly plopped in the seat next to the blond. He crossed his arms and slouched. The rott hybrid emitted a low growl from his spot on the floor. Move, he seemed to say, conform or else!

"Tough lucky, doggie," he said, speaking for the first time.

**...**

As expected his buyer was from a rich family, and just any rich family, no. His luck enabled him to be adopted by the son of the strictest, most conservative senator in American History: Zeus. They were of course pulled into some fancy tinted grade-A black car.

Kratos, the Rottweiler hybrid, sat at Jason's feet. Jason Grace, his buyer, sat in one of the leather seats. He refused to sit on the floor. He resolved to sit next to Jason with as much as space put between them as possible.

Not a word was spoken throughout the entire ride home. Jason sent him an extraneous amount of concerned glances, he could count the number of times the older boy opened his mouth only for him to shut it back again and blush. Kratos was a bit more forthcoming with his attitudes. His lips seemed to be pulled back in a permanent snarl, his brown eyes dark and piercing as his own, never left him for a second.

And too top it off, his wings were back into their damned restraints, cramped together and pressed painfully against his back. His was forced to shift constantly in an effort to keep the pain levels low.

Everything was peachy keen.

"Are you okay?" Jason asked. "I mean, um, I saw you squirming around. If you have to pee or something, don't be afraid to ask. I don't mind stopping."

He gritted his teeth and sat up rigidly. He did not want nor did he need help from his buyer. He continued to stare out his window, they were rolling passed large houses at this point, almost all of them were gated.

"You don't have to be silent, you know. You can talk as much as you want," offered Jason weakly.

He found Jason quite easy to ignore.

"Such disrespect! Maggot, listen to the Master when he speaks to you!" barked the doggie.

Kratos was easy to ignore too. Also, fun to rile up.

"No, it's okay if he doesn't want to speak, Kratos," Jason chastised. "I understand."

"No," he said.

"Excuse me?" Jason leaned over. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

His fingers thrummed against his leg.

"Nico?"

He didn't see Jason with the hybrid appendages. He didn't see him up on The Auction stage with him and the others. Jason had never been starved, touched inappropriately, or watched someone literally waste away in front of him. Jason was just another link in his chain. This boy was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, perfectly normal and perfectly cushioned to experience whatever _hardships_ (like he had any!) life may have thrown at him.

"You don't understand," he said harshly, facing Jason.

"Y-you're—"

"Right, I know. You will never understand us, so, you should stop trying. I don't need your pity."

Nico sent Jason a final glare. He propped his fist under chin back to peering out the window. Hopefully, that would be the last attempt at any sort of conversation.


End file.
